


Dreaming from the Waist

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Season 10 Fan Fiction [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, Apothecary, Case Fic, Domestic Disputes, EDA - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Sam Winchester/Dakota 'Dodge' Gage, FBI Case Clash, Gate Crashing, Gen, It all comes down to bone, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic and Medicine don't mix, Men of Letters Bunker, Monster mash, Monster of the Week, Naga, Nephilim, Talim Orm Serum, The Purge, Werewolves, on the lam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After rescuing Dean from the Amazons, the Winchesters struggle to regain footing in the supernatural world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shooting Dice

**Somerset, New Jersey**. Sam hated clearing floors room by room. For one thing, it took much time. For another, the effort was mostly pointless in the supernatural world. But Dodge insisted on it, so he continued the sweep, room by room.

"Downstairs is clear!" he yelled.

"Upstairs is clear!" Dodge replied as she descended the stairs. 

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. Less than nothing," she replied. "Not even disarray."

"You think they used that woman as a decoy to throw us off their trail?" Sam asked. 

"If they did, then they're just too damn good. We've got nothing. Let's go."

Sam yanked the front door open. 

"I wouldn't say 'nothing,'" he replied.

The mangled body of a young man was crumpled on the doorstep, wrapped in a shower curtain.

As she stepped toward the body to examine it, she said, "Bet this is their idea of a joke."

"Just like the others," Sam said. "Beaten to a pulp."

"Still warm," she remarked as she took the victim's pulse in vain. "And from the looks of it, he was still alive when they started beating. He fought back."

"Too bad it didn't do him any good."

Dodge strained up. "Sam, I've gotta call this in."

"No. Hell, no," he said. "I'm not leaving you alone out here. Not with Amazons dropping victims off like pizza! They must've just been here – "

"I gotta call this in," Dodge interrupted. "I can't just stumble into a body and not mention it, regardless of who – or what – killed the person."

"The FBI can't stop them."

"I'm on the clock. That means they'll track my car, track my phone. They'll ask how I missed this guy when he was dumped at my feet. And what'll I say then?"

"I dunno, but I'm telling you that this is Amazons!"

"Dog, bone," Dodge said bluntly. She handed off her keys. "And we've already agreed, the FBI can't find you here."

"If you're not at the car in five – " 

"I will be."

 

 **Lebanon, Kansas**. Crime scene photos covered the long tables of the Bunker's War Room. Dean paced as he listened to his brother's incessant chatter.

"It's gotta be Amazons," Sam insisted. "They said they'd be back to wreck our lives, and a few weeks later, bodies start to drop in New Jersey."

"Except that none of these dudes look like the Amazon vics we've seen," Dean replied. "Got both his hands and feet. No symbol carved on their chests. And then there's that whole two-year cycle thing isn't on for this year."

"All bets are off," Sam said. "We slaughtered dozens of them rescuing you. We shouldn't assume they'll operate business as usual."

"Plenty of things beat people to a pulp, Sammy," Dean said. "I'm telling you, I've stared at every Amazon-related book on the shelves here. Got whackos who enlisted the Amazon's help and got slaughtered for their trouble – had that symbol carved into their foreheads - but other than that, nada. Maybe, just maybe, this is something else."

"Like what?" 

"Attack monkeys," Dean replied. "Pissed off ninja assassin vamps. People."

"Seriously? People?" Sam asked. "You think people did this?"

"Yeah, could be a whole, you know, steroid juicing thing," Dean replied. 

"Next time you plan on being a dick for a whole call, just say so as soon as you pick up," Sam replied as he hung up.

"Wow," Dean commented as he pocketed his phone.

"You're right," Castiel said as he abruptly entered. "I couldn't detect anything at the morgue that suggested possession, monsters – anything."

"Yeah, well, Sammy can't take a break," Dean replied. "We've had nothing for two solid weeks, and he's climbing the walls."

"Two weeks since we rescued you," Cas pointed out.

"'Rescue' is a strong word. I was just, you know, waiting for you guys. Knew you'd swing by and pick me up."

"Usually you would be, 'climbing the walls,' as you say, after a week with no cases."

"Guess I got better things to do," Dean said as he laced his index finger through the belt loop on Cas's jeans.


	2. Dream Machine

_Dean couldn't breath. His throat tightened. His body felt weak, and was all he could do to stagger forward._

_A familiar voice echoed, "You're both too busy enjoying domestic bliss to really invest yourselves in your jobs, otherwise you wouldn't have your heads so far up your asses."_

"Dean!" a loud, gruff voice yelled. "Dean!"

His eyes snapped open to see Castiel leaning over him.

"You were thrashing violently," the angel said. "And then you stopped breathing. I thought it best to wake you."

"Right, thanks," Dean said hoarsely as he sat up straight. The waistband of his pants pulled tightly on his hips. "What the hell? Cas, why – I'm wearing pants."

"Was that a question?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, why the hell am I wearing my jeans in bed?"

"You fell asleep in them," Cas replied. "Should I have disrobed you while you slept?"

Dean shook his head. The memories gradually came back to him. "So, you carried me to bed, but dropped me in with my cloths on?"

"Yes."

"Right, well, thanks," Dean said. "What time is it?"

"Two in the morning. Are you all right? You did stop breathing."

"Getting old," Dean replied. "Probably sleep apnea or whatever. I'm starving."

"You should sleep," Cas said. "You haven't slept more than three hours in the past two weeks."

"Two weeks? Try thirty years."

 

Sam Winchester was wide-awake. For some reason his body woke up at five in the morning and refused to allow him any more rest.

So he decided to watch Dodge sleep. Something about it made him feel both elated and just a little old. He hadn't expected this moment, this relationship. 

Dean had accused him more than once of chasing up Amazon leads just to spend time with his girlfriend, and he wasn't entirely wrong. The first few murderers were gang-related assaults, nothing supernatural about them, yet Sam lingered on the east coast, ducking and hiding from any other federal agents Dodge came into contact with.

But now? These last three bodies were all definitely supernatural. Maybe they weren't dropped by Amazons, but it could be a family of shifters or something just as nasty. And as of the third body found last night, the FBI was now labeling it a serial murder case, which meant it would be under a lot of scrutiny.

Sam really should head back to the bunker to dig up intel on the Amazons the old fashion way. He had already been pronounced legally dead at least twice, and before that, both times, he was at the top of America's Most Wanted. Any sighting of him and Dodge together could destroy her career and land him in a federal jail cell.

On the other hand, spending time with Dodge in the field was amazing. She had good instincts and training, which matched her squarely with Dean, but she didn't force Sam to listen to the same cassette tapes over and over again. She even listened to NPR. 

Still, the risk kept increasing and not just from the criminal justice system. 

Dodge's cell phone rang, and she flinched but didn't wake. He leaned over her and grabbed it from the bedside table.

"It's work," he said to her. "Dodge, wake up. You've got a call."

It took several minutes to wake her, by which time the phone had stopped ringing and her inbox had accrued multiple messages.

"Damn, I hate it when they call so early," she said. After she listened to her messages, she added, "Got another body, and we've got something else this time."

"Missing heart?" Sam asked. "Or missing pituitaries? Drained brains?"

"A witness," she replied. "Sam, you know what this means."

"That we should head out now."

"You can't be there when I question the witness," she said. "I won't be the only fed there."

"All right," Sam replied. "Then I'll head to the morgue, check out the body."

"That's not a good idea," she said. "Not with – "

"Dodge, I can pass for a lab guy," Sam replied. "I could probably pass for forensics if I really wanted to."

"My bosses are gonna want my partner to join me on this one," she said. "Now that it's definitely serial and not just a case I'm looking into."

"I get it," Sam said harshly. "But I'm not stranding you out here with whatever monster is pulverizing people to death."

"Sam, I've done this before."

"Have you?"

She took a few moments before turning around, button up her shirt. "Yes, Sam, I have. I can take care of myself. What I can't do is have someone identifying you."

"I'm going with you," he said simply. "Done and done."

"This can't go on. We've gotta figure out something else."

Sam bit his lip and busied himself with dressing. He didn't want to consider the alternatives; everything he could think of meant an end for him and Dodge.

 

Dean continued to track Sam's case with a map of New Jersey and several pins; that was unremarkable. 

The thing that surprised Castiel was that the hunter had started a new case board with a map of the USA. He had already added dozens of pins, spiraling out from Rawlins, Wyoming. 

"I thought you wanted something to eat," the angel said as he joined Dean.

"Yeah, and then I got an idea and started this," Dean replied.

"Supernatural events?" Cas asked, indicating the tags.

"Uh, no. We haven't really figured out what happened in Rawlin. A lot of bad went down there, with the entire town turned and Lucifer and Jesse blowing things up."

"And Therion," Castiel added. "Among others."

"You and Sam spent a lot of time looking for me," Dean said. "And I am grateful. But if Jesse's still alive, we should – "

"He's not," Cas said quietly. "Neither is Lucifer."

"We still need to figure out what happened," Dean said. "We owe him that much."

"You think knowing the outcome of the battle will make you feel less guilty over Jesse's death?"

"I don't feel guilty," Dean snapped. 

"Are you certain?"

Several minutes of silence passed before Dean spoke again. "We've been dropping the ball. Missing cases."

"You were held captive – "

Dean interrupted him. "Before that."

Cas tilted his head in confusion.

"Before the Amazons grabbed me from Rawlin," Dean continued. "We were completely blind-sighted. We didn't even know what the hell was going on half the time."

"The forces at work were insidious," Cas said.

"This is what we do, Cas!" Dean yelled. "We spot crap like this and we stop it. The whole monster-versus-demon thing with the witch-on-witch action was just some kind of cover for demon/monster hybridization. For all we know, they're amassing an army."

Castiel considered his words for a few moments. "I don't understand what you just said. But I know what you mean." The angel put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We survived. That's more than anyone else. And we will figure it out."

Dean bit into his cheek. He didn't want someone to kiss and make it better; he wanted to know what they were up against. 

"I don't want to be caught with my pants down again, Cas," Dean said.

"Normally you don't mind," the angel replied.

"It's an expression, Cas," Dean said. He turned to meet Cas's eye and saw a smile playing on the angel's face.

"I understand. So, where do we begin?"

 

Jamie always enjoyed working in the morgue. Her recent caseload, however, made her question her commitment. In the past two weeks she had examined more victims of violent crimes than she had for the past three years at her previous post.

"Excuse me, are you Dr. Devon?" someone said as he entered the room.

Jamie's questions melted away at the sight of the bespectacled technician waiting at the door. He was very tall with long hair and striking eyes. 

"Uh, yes, I am," she replied. "Call me Jamie."

"I'm Mathis, Mathis Quinn," the man said. "I'm working on the bludgeoning case. The serial one."

 

Sam chose a new alias for his cover as a forensics technician. He wondered why he hadn't bothered with such a position previously, as no one questioned the latex gloves or the general air of social awkwardness that allowed him to duck cameras. 

Dr. Jamie Devon showed Sam the three bodies before heading back to her office with a slightly tired look. He hadn't realized, before her wary goodbye, that she had been hitting on him.

Sam made a mental note to make his next alias married. 

The first two bodies had already been autopsied, but the third had just been brought in. According to the file, the latest victim was identified as Frans McConner. 

The knuckles on McConner's hands were raw and bloody, but not from torture or beating. He had used his fists to defend himself, and from the looks of his knuckles, he had experience, some kind of conditioning, long before he was attacked. 

Sam checked the legs; McConner's shins bore similar indications. He must've had some training in the martial arts at some point. Sam checked the other two victims and discovered they, too, had fought back viciously. 

Neither of the previous reports mentioned anything about the victims having anything above standard defensive wounds, but there was a note on the third case file that caught Sam's eye: additional analysis will be provided by Dr. Maureen Rawlings, forensic anthropologist. 

He took down her information. Maybe she would have more insights into these three men.

 

Dodge spotted Sam as soon as he came out of the morgue. She sent him a text: MEET ME AT THE ROOM, ASAP. 

It took her about twenty minutes to get to their motel room, but his trip took longer. She waited for him, unsure if she should call or text again.

"Sorry," he said as he stepped into the room. "I thought I was being followed, so I had to park in another lot."

"Were you?"

"What?"

"Followed?" 

"No," Sam said simply.

"What did you find at the morgue?" she asked. 

"Not much," he replied. "The bodies have no trace evidence. No EMF, no sulfur, no nothing to suggest anything at all."

"You mean, there was no DNA on this body?"

"They hadn't processed any of that yet," Sam replied. "I bet there will be DNA, but nothing that can get us anywhere."

"Well, then, you're gonna wanna hear this," she said. "I spoke to Asmita Banuelos, the witness, she was there when McConner's body dropped."

"How did that go?"

"She told me that she saw this man running from multiple assailants before he was cornered and beaten down by at least five individuals."

"Did she describe them?" Sam asked.

"Not really. She said they could've been women, but all she really saw was that they weren't as tall as he was."

"The man was six foot four," he replied. "Pretty much everyone is shorter than he is."

"Yeah, but she called it in, which gives us a location of the assailants, a time frame, and plenty of opportunities for us to catch their faces on security footage."

She waved her arm over to a large box with assorted media for video: memory stick, hard drive, even a few DVDs.

"So, should I get popcorn?" 

"Not too much," she replied. "I can only stay until Marie gets here, which should be today."

"Your FBI partner?"

"When she's here, I've got to play by the book. That means staying the motel the FBI booked for me, all that jazz."

Sam bit his tongue and nodded. "Right, your turf. Where do we start?"


	3. Thumbed Pages

Sam spent an entire day watching the security footage Dodge had given him. After Agent Acevedo, Dodge's partner, arrived, Dodge went out to do fieldwork and left Sam to his own devices. 

So he got a new motel room and acquired a dozen monitors and screens to watch as much of the security footage as possible all at once.

And he had nothing.

No weird feedback. No reflective shifter eyes. Nothing. Nothing but people moving around on the screen. A few frames captured people running, but Sam couldn't see anything that identified the individuals. 

Sam replayed one of the videos. It showed the backs of two women running hard toward the scene of the crime. He couldn't see either of their wrists, which would be branded if they were Amazons. Then again, Amazons had incredible speed; by all accounts, they wouldn't show up on camera.

So maybe this wasn't Amazons after all. Or maybe they're playing a new game. Either way, Sam Winchester was stuck in a motel room while his girlfriend was out in the field, putting her life on the line. 

He reverted to a frame that caught his eye. Both women were wearing sleeveless shirts, and one of them had a distinctive mark on her left shoulder. It was difficult to make out, since the video footage wasn't high quality, but it looked to be a series of scars. The marks seemed so deliberate, almost like a tattoo, but they didn't form a shape exactly. 

"Surgical scars," Sam said out loud before he could stop himself.

First the fighting injuries on the body in the morgue, now one of the assailants had scars from some kind of surgery. It could be nothing, Sam thought to himself. But his instincts were telling him it wasn't nothing. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Hello?" a woman answered. 

"Hello, is this Dr. Maureen Rawlings?" Sam asked. 

"Yes, who is this?"

"I'm a forensic lab tech. Mathis Quinn," he replied. "I was wondering if we could talk."

"Are you on one of my cases?"

"Actually, yes, and I had a theory I wanted to run by you."

 

 **Lander, Wyoming**. Castiel and Dean teleported inside of a supply closet.

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "This is why we don't zap around."

"Hush," Cas replied. "Follow me."

No one looked twice as the two men exited the Janitor's Closet. Dean followed the angel as he led him down the hall and outside.

"Why didn't we just – " Dean began.

"Because if I teleport into an open space, I can be detected."

"Since when?"

Cas spun on his heels and faced Dean, crowding his space. "Since someone or something cast a spell over most of this town."

"Witches?" 

"Unlikely. This spell alerts... someone to any kind of teleportation or angelic powers used out in the open."

"How is that not witches?"

Castiel started walking again. "This isn't warding to prevent my powers. It merely sets an alarm."

"So an early warning system for someone. Why are we here?"

"Because no one would set an early warning system, as you call it, for no reason," the angel replied. 

"All that means is someone here is not fond of angels," Dean said. "That's not – "

"This is it," Castiel interrupted. 

Dean realized they were stopped outside of a residence. "This is what?"

"Whoever cast the spell is in that house. You should go in and see if you can determine who it is. Then we can abduct the individual and question them."

"What?" 

"I believe I was both concise and clear, as you requested repeatedly at the Men of Letters bunker."

"Why am I going in to question a witch about a spell? And why aren't you coming with me?"

"Because whoever did this is trying to avoid seraphs. It is likely that a spellcaster this capable will know what I am when they see me."

"I get it, you're mad, but – "

"This is what you call a lead, Dean," Cas interrupted. "You insisted upon finding out more. This is a start."

Dean took a long, hard look at Castiel. It was true; he had been a bit hard on the angel over the past day or so. He had pressed him for more, and this could be a legitimate lead. But he didn't like how little Cas was saying. It made him wary. 

"Okay, fine. When I find the witch who did this, what then?"

"You incapacitate whoever it is and call to me to transport us elsewhere."

"Awesome."

 

Special Agent Marie Acevedo had been partnered with Dakota 'Dodge' Gage years ago. Somewhere down the line, they became close personal friends. That was how Acevedo knew something was wrong.

They interviewed the witness together. They went over the ME reports for all the victims. They ate lunch and talked about how good it was to be back on duty together.

It was all very proper and official, which was how Dodge was when they were first partnered. 

"You okay?" Acevedo asked.

"Me? I'm fine," Dodge replied. "You got the office number for this Anthropologist person?"

"Forensic Anthropologist," she replied. "Rawlings. She's supposed to be excellent. So play nice."

"Kill joy."

They made their way to the temporary office of one Dr. Maureen Rawlings. She had spread out extensive x-rays of each victim anatomically. It seemed like the room contained five luminescent skeletons. 

"Are you the two FBI Agents?" a woman asked. She had dark skin and eyes and a professional, almost cold, demeanor. 

 

"Yes," Marie said simply. "I'm Marie Acevedo. This is my partner Dodge Gage."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Rawlings, or Maureen," she said. 

"You seem to be ready for us," Dodge commented, indicating the x-rays.

"Well, after your smart cookie and I had a conversation, I thought it would be a good thing to show you both what he put me on to," Rawlings replied.

"Sorry, what smart cookie?" Acevedo asked. 

Rawlings looked confused, but she regained her composure. "My apologies. I meant Mathis Quinn, the lab technician." She cast a significant glance to Dodge. "From how he spoke about you, I guess I just assumed you two were together."

Acevedo sized Dodge's reaction. It was equal parts annoyance and guilt. Clearly, she had meant to keep her relationship with the 'smart cookie' a secret.

"Mathis can be overly familiar," Dodge replied. "But he does have good ideas. Care to enlighten us?"

 

 **Lander, Wyoming**. Dean wheedled his way into the house by introducing himself as Agent James, an off-duty FBI Agent doing some informal investigation in the Landers area.

Jared Beardsley, the young man who owned the house, let Dean in after checking his badge. By in large, everything was going well. Dean scoped the house and identified a number of witchcraft-related things without arousing suspicion. Jared seemed oddly normal.

"Does anyone else live here?" Dean asked.

"Huh?"

"Ah, not related to my investigation. It's just, this is a big house. I was wondering if you shared it with anyone."

Jared looked at Dean for a few moments before he replied. "Why don't you just tell me what you're after?"

"You seem a little tense there Jared." 

"You're a hunter," Jared said. "And I've nothing to hide, in as much as I've done nothing wrong."

"So why do you look so worried?" Dean asked. 

"Because some hunters kill for sport," Jared replied. 

"If you don't kill people, then you don't have anything to worry about."

In the blink of an eye, Dean and Jared were inside an abandoned home with Castiel gripping their arms. 

"Dean Winchester, this is one of the nephilim," Castiel said by way of introduction. "What is your name?" 

"Jared Bearsley."

"Your real name!"

"You mean what others called me?" Jared asked, not hiding his anger. "Caenum. That's what they called me. But it is not my name."

"Okay, sensing some tension," Dean said. "I'm guessing angels and nephilim are not drinking buddies."

Jared turned his head to Dean, almost pleading. "Nephilim are the offspring of angels and humans. Accepted by neither. That's why the angels give me a name that basically is a fancy version of the word mud. They see me as a mutt, a mutant, dirt."

"Bad blood. Got it," Dean said, coming between Cas and Jared. "Cas, did you know about this guy?"

"Not before we arrived." 

"What's up with you?" Dean asked.

"Nephilim are not allowed," the angel replied.

"Right, like you and me should be talking about what's allowed," Dean muttered. He turned back to Jared. "I thought I was talking to some bad ass witch or something. Truth is, we're just looking for intel on Jesse Turner."

"Turner, the cambion?" Jared asked. "I felt it."

"Felt it? Is that some kind of weird lingo?" Dean asked. 

"The battle within. He fought. I felt it when he died."

"He's dead. You're sure?" 

Jared nodded, "I recovered his body from the ruins. I burned his body over the land where his parents lived. Where he burned and buried them."

"Why?" Dean asked. "Gabriel was supposed to be helping him. Why wasn't he – "

"Angels cannot honor the dead," Jared said. "At least not when the dead happens to be a part-demon hybrid. All the angels fled to heaven during that battle. How long would it be before they came down and gave him the burial he deserved?"

"You speak as if you knew Jesse," Cas said. 

"He was part human and part demon. I was part angel and part human. That kind of symmetry is magnetic."

"So you did know him?" Dean asked.

"During the Apocalypse, when he was in hiding. I was too. We helped one another. We kept in psychic contact once he returned home." Jared swallowed hard. "I would like to be returned to my house now."

Castiel turned his head sideways, as if asking Dean if it were a reasonable request. 

"You feel like you can go back?" Dean asked. "Even though we dropped in on you?"

Jared nodded.

"We should ask him more questions," Castiel objected. "He is nephilim, he knows more than he is saying."

"Jesse is dead and burned," Dean said. "What else is there?"

With the sound of wings, Castiel took them back to Jared's house. And again the sound rang out as Castiel took them back to the bunker.

"So, what the hell was that?" Dean demanded.

 

Sam knew something was wrong as soon as Dodge entered the room. She had that kind of calm that took self-convincing and that was never a good sign.

"What's up?"

"I could say the same," Dodge replied. "See, I just had to explain to my partner why I'm dating – but not really – a lab technician named Mathis Quinn. You'll have to drop that identity and lose the burner you've been using for it, because obviously she'll be running a background check now, if she hasn't already."

"Uh, what?" Sam asked. "I mean, why would you say anything about Mathis? He's – "

"Not supposed to be connect to me?" Dodge prompted. "Because he doesn't exist?"

"Yeah, no one can connect Mathis to you – "

"Except for Doctor Maureen Rawlings," Dodge said. "Who brought up your brilliant theory when me and Acevedo were going over forensics with her."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all you've got? 'Oh'?"

"But I didn't!" Sam said, "I didn't say anything about you."

"Apparently you mentioned me at some point, because Rawlings guessed our relationship from the conversation!"

The younger Winchester hadn't had that big of a slip up in a long time, and certainly none that put Dodge in the line of fire. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't ... I messed up, Dodge."

"Well, that's a conversation for another day, because we've gotta talk about this case. Ditch the phone, and drop Mathis Quinn."

"Done."

"How much did Rawlings tell you?"

Sam shrugged, feeling put-off by the sudden change in topic. "I brought up the fact that there were injuries on the bodies that indicated they were all experienced fighters. Callouses on the knuckles. Boxer's fractures in the x-rays. One of the assailants had scars, probably from a surgery on a rotator cuff or something like that. That can happen if you're heavy into the martial arts."

"Rawlings mentioned that. All the victims had common training injuries, and most of the damage to the skeleton happened within the last four months of their lives. She and Acevedo believe we're looking for some kind of fight club gone wrong."

"Fight club?" Sam asked. 

Dodge spread out a number of x-rays with yellow markings down the side.

"This is from the second victim, Ellis Zimmer."

"Fracture down the tibia," Sam commented.

"Acevedo and Rawlings couldn't find any medical records for Zimmer, or anyone matching his description, being treated for this fracture. Bone remodeling shows that he had it nine months before he died."

"So they're thinking a fight club with some kind of black market medical ring for treating suspicious injuries?" Sam asked. 

"They see this and think that some guy managed to walk around on this without dying. They assume that means he had it set badly, which is why it didn't heal properly."

"What do you see?" Sam asked.

"Each victim had injuries like this. Not just badly set in some back-alley shady medical facility, but completely neglected. As if they couldn't feel it," Dodge said. "Like they were possessed."

He considered this for a moment. "We didn't find any EMF, ecto, or sulfur. Usually that rules out possession."

She nodded. "Right now, the FBI is working the possibility that all these guys were in some kind of extreme fighting. Most of the victims have no violent history or priors, so Acevedo is checking into kidnapping as a possibility. No signs of prolonged restraints and nothing on the tox screens, so if coercion was used, it would've been blackmail of some kind."

Dodge's cell phone began to ring. She checked the name and hit ignore.

Sam had caught on to the wariness in her voice. "Okay, while they're working the fight club angle, I can start on the possession thing."

"There's one more thing. They all died of internal decapitation. In fact, the same detachment, from identical strikes to the exact place on the body. Back of the neck. At least, as far as Rawlings can tell."

"So they were all killed in the same way? Definitely sounds like a ghost," Sam said. 

"The other angle the FBI is working is a serial killer or even an assassin covering their tracks, making this look like a gang kill," Dodge said. "Actually, the assassin theory was mine. Nice and non-supernatural."

Her phone rang again. 

"Damn it," she muttered. "It's Acevedo again, I've gotta take this. Don't think we're done with this Mathis Quinn mess."


	4. Cardiac Arrest

Castiel had known anger in his time. It was never a pleasant emotion, but usually it gave him a burst of power. For some reason, his current anger was draining him dry.

"I asked for a lead, not some family angel crap!" Dean said. 

"I wasn't aware of the nephilim," Cas replied. "I was just looking for someone who might be able to tell us what happened to Jesse."

"Well you did!"

"Yes, I did."

"So you're saying we just ran into a nephilim, out of everything and everyone else in the world?"

Cas replied, "How many others have you found? How many people could tell you anything about Jesse? That nephilim was the only creature living that had a word to say about him. Why does the nephilim bother you so much?"

"Me? The nephilim doesn't bother me," Dean said. "The nephilim bothers _you_. What was that crap, Cas?"

"Nephilim are like the cambion, human hybrids. They're unpredictable and dangerous."

"Jesse was better than most of the angels I've met!"

"Jesse was an exception!" Cas said. "Nephilim were banned because they had the power of angels without the conviction."

"You mean they're not douchebags."

"Dean, you've been insufferable for days! And even now, after I helped you find the information you want – "

Dean's cell phone rang.

"To be continued," Dean said to Cas. He flipped open his phone, "Sammy? You okay?"

"Dean, yeah, sort of," Sam replied. "Look, I need you and Cas to help me out here."

"With what?"

"This case... I'm trying to find a connection between the victims, but they all disappeared months before they died. And I sort of got into trouble with the FBI."

"Sort of got into trouble?" Dean repeated. "Does that mean you're back on the most wanted list?"

"No, and that's not the point. There are five victims. Two of them still have their apartments. The others had their stuff packed away."

"So why don't you go check them out?" 

"Because," Sam said. "I've gotta keep my head down. And it's five places. You and Cas can teleport."

Dean sighed. "Fine, text me the info." Then he hung up.

"Is Sam all right?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, he needs us to check the victims for a connection. There's five places we need to hit."

"We?" Cas prompted.

"Yeah, us. Working part of a case. Is there a problem with that?" 

The angel tilted his head. "No. But you could've asked me."

"Asked you?"

"Yes."

"To work a case?"

"I made my statement clearly," Cas said.

Dean bit his lip. He took a moment to remind himself that as his boyfriend, Castiel was bound to drive him crazy in new and more frustrating ways. It didn't help much, but it gave him enough calm to push him through.

"Cas, will you help me and Sam on this case?" Dean asked.

The angel nodded.

 

Dodge knocked on the door to Acevedo's hotel room. 

"It's open," Acevedo said.

Dodge knew before she came that this conversation wouldn't be pleasant.

"You called," Dodge said by way of greeting.

Acevedo nodded and rounded the room. She turned on a nature's sound player (crickets), two white noise machines, and a local radio station. All the sound was low enough that they didn't need to raise their voices but high enough to make it difficult to eavesdrop or record their conversation.

"This doesn't bode well," Dodge commented.

"Don't tell me you didn't expect it," Acevedo replied. "Someone mentions you're new significant other, who you forgot to mention to me for how long exactly?"

"For a while."

"'Course I'm going to look into him."

Dodge didn't reply. She couldn't think of the right words.

"What's his name?" Acevedo asked. "Because Mathis Quinn certainly isn't it." When Dodge didn't say anything, she continued, "Look, you wouldn't be the first agent to fall for an informant."

"That's what you think?"

"That's all I could come up with."

"He's not an informant."

"Okay, then what is he? Because his identity was pretty damn good. Good enough to get a lab tech card even though he didn't exist. And clearly the guy isn't shy, since he spoke with Dr. Rawlings like it was his job."

"He shouldn't've, but he had a lead," Dodge replied. "And apparently no boundaries."

"So that's it? You're gonna let him run around, fake identity? Because he's gonna drag you down with him. If I can put it together, so can anyone else."

"Look, he's given me help on weird cases. He's not an informant. At least, not the traditional kind. He's been using aliases ever since he was attacked for his work a while back. His name is Sampson."

"Is that like Cher, or does he have a last name?"

"If you knew his last name, you'd know too much, and you'd be in the same boat as me."

Acevedo didn't respond right away. "Why?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Why are you with this guy?"

"Because, he's right for me. And he's... I love him," Dodge said. The words shocked her as they left her mouth, and clearly Acevedo hadn't expected such an explanation either.

"This is the same guy that was helping you when you were on medical leave, isn't it?" Acevedo asked. "I mean, you must've known him for a while."

"He first helped me on a case over a year ago," Dodge said. "We weren't... together then."

Acevedo crossed her arms and dropped to the bed. "Look, whatever the hell is going on between you two, you need to keep him away from our cases. Away from the FBI. Unless he wants to sign up."

"You're right, and I've already told him that. He's out of the way, I promise," Dodge said. "And I had been meaning to tell you. About him. It's just..."

"Never been a good time," Acevedo finished. "Or maybe it's because the guy you've been dating is paranoid and shady."

"He's not... it's not like that."

"Do me a favor, spare me," Acevedo continued. "You don't owe me details about your life. But you do owe me details about anyone helping you on our cases. Or other cases. Or work of any kind."

"Right, 'course I do," Dodge said. "I should start at the beginning, that first case."

 

Dean and Castiel sifted through yet another victim's belongings. The first three homes had produced nothing but the belongings of the Ordinary Joe.

"I don't know what Sam expects us to find," Cas said. "Beyond mismatched socks and pornography, these victims have nothing in common."

"I think I found something," Dean said. "Didn't you mention something about a medical kit at the last dude's apartment?"

"There were syringes but nothing to inject."

"Just like this," Dean said as he opened a small case with syringes. "Looks like this guy hit empty, but here's a bottle of something. Can you tell what was in it?"

Dean handed off the vial to Castiel, who nearly dropped it.

"Hold on there, butter fingers," Dean said.

"I don't know what was in there," Cas said. "But it was no medicine."

"Seriously?"

The angel nodded. "When I touched it, I felt the molecules. Not quite demonic, but definitely spirit. Maybe some werewolf, it's difficult to tell."

"This is some kind of potion or something?" Dean asked. He examined the vial. "It's got something on it."

The label read TALIM ORM SERUM.

"Talim orm serum?" Dean repeated out loud. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No, but we should take that back to the Bunker for analysis. It's the first sign this case has a supernatural element."

Dean boxed up the syringes and vial for later. He was ready to start on their next location, but Castiel lingered over a cardboard box of knickknacks. 

"Cas? We going or what?"

"These were at the other houses," the angel said simply. He held up what looked to be poker chips.

"Those're sobriety chips," Dean said. "Alcoholics anonymous, narcotics anonymous, that kind of thing. You get chips for keeping sober."

"These are marked EDA. What anonymous group is that?" 

"Hell if I know," he replied. 

"The others had chips marked with EDA as well."

"You didn't mention that."

"I thought they were the ones you play poker with," Castiel admitted.

"Well, let's take those too, maybe they all went to the same anonymous support group meeting or something."

 

The phone rang.

Sam's thumb hesitated over the screen, uncertain. After Cas and Dean put him onto the EDA lead, he should've called Dodge immediately and told her.

But he hadn't.

Now she was calling _him_.

Did she find out he was looking into the case still? How? He didn't have too many more rings to think about it.

"Hey," he said as he answered the phone.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Dodge asked.

"The Breeze and Sun Motel, room 21."

"You there now?"

"Uh, no."

"I want to see you," she said.

"That sounds a little ominous Dodge."

"It's not."

"It's not?"

"I just said it's not."

Sam ventured a question. "Is everything okay? I mean, with your partner."

"Not really."

"Are you okay?"

"Not really."

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm not sure when I'll be done. You wanna join me?"

"Look, Sampson – "

"Sampson?" Sam repeated.

"I'll explain later," Dodge continued. "We can't work a case together. Not an FBI case."

"Actually, I'm going to a meeting."

"A meeting?"

"Like AA, but not for alcoholics," Sam said. 

"You've never told me about an addiction."

Sam felt a strong pang of guilt as he remembered his days drinking demon blood. He made a mental note to tell her later. 

"Sam? What kind of meeting is it?"

"Actually, I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what kind of support meeting you need?"

"It's not my support meeting. All the victims had sobriety chips."

"That's not true. Only two of them had tokens," Dodge replied. "And that was considered a bust because no one could track down their support groups."

"You mean the EDA."

"Yeah, that's what it was. The team looked into tons of possible groups, but nothing matched the acronym. You're telling me the other victims had tokens, too?"

"Yeah, buried in the boxes considered garbage by whoever packed up their places."

"Please tell me you didn't – "

"I didn't. Promise. Look, I found one of these EDA meetings. Since it's meant to be anonymous, there's no reason we can't go together."

Sam could feel Dodge's hesitation. 

"Will you wear gloves?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah I guess."

"And a hat?"

"Seriously?" Sam asked. "Okay, gloves and a hat."

"Just tell me where to meet you," Dodge replied. Something in her voice made Sam smile.

 

Dean hunched over another book. He felt like he'd been in the Bunker for years, tearing through books with incomprehensible words, all to discover anything about something called TALIM ORM or any kind of serum.

In reality, it had only been a few hours. But the dust still hadn't settled between him and Cas, which meant the minutes stretched into hours on principle.

"I think I've got something," Castiel said. 

"Huh?"

"Talim Orm isn't the name of the serum," Cas replied. "It's the name of its maker."

"You mean like a corporation?"

"No, it is the name of the apothecary."

"The what?"

"Apothecary. The person who made the serum."

It took Dean a moment to realize that Castiel had no books in front of him.

"Uh, Cas, what the hell?"

"I told you I was going to ask Matthon and Nathaniel if they had any information about this."

"When?"

"About three hours ago."

"Really?"

"You told me to get bacon. I assumed you meant cheeseburgers," Cas said, producing a to-go meal from Conner's Diner. Dean loved that place, but he couldn't set foot back in that place since their Leviathan doppelgangers went on that cross-country killing spree.

"Dude, thanks," Dean said, taking the burger and fries. "What else did you find out?"

Castiel waited until Dean started eating. "You seem better," the angel remarked.

"Cas, com'on, don't do that now," Dean protested. "You said something about an... ape-the-ary guy who made this serum."

"Apothecary," Cas repeated. "You know this term."

"Nope, you got me."

"Talim Orm is an alias for someone who combines magic and medical science to produce charms, potions, treatments," Castiel said.

"For who?" Dean asked, his mouth full of fries.

"Nathaniel told me Talim Orm caters to werewolves, shapeshifters, vampires – "

"Monsters?" Dean asked. "This dude caters to monsters?"

"Matthon had other information. He said that Talim Orm treats all manner of creatures, but there are rumors that this practitioner is tampering with them, too."

"Tampering? You mean like experiments?"

"Depending on which rumors you listen to, Talim Orm selects patients to trap for extensive testing. That's how treatments are discovered. Those selected are essentially kept prisoner and tortured endlessly."

"And yet shifters, vamps, they just stroll up to this dude's door?"

"Apparently Talim Orm has a tonic to treat werewolves."

"You mean a werewolf cure?"

Castiel shook his head. "From what I have heard, it allows the individual to be aware while transformed."

"So during the full moon, they're wolfed out, but in control?" Dean asked. "Gotta say, that would be kinda cool."

"According to Nathaniel, this tonic allows the werewolf to be aware of, and have control over, his actions while transformed. But it also allows the werewolf to transform outside the full moon."

"This tonic, it actually exists?"

"I've not found any, if that's what you mean," Cas said. "But there have been several werewolf attacks outside the full moon. Either they were from higher in the blood line, which is unlikely, or – "

"People have been wolfing out off-cycle."

Dean finished the last of his burger. "So, this dude isn't interested in curing monsters, right? He wants to give them free reign?"

"I do not know Talim Orm's objectives, if any exist."

"How's about we track this sucker down and ask him then?" Dean asked.

"You mean find him and kill him, don't you?"

"Yep."

The older Winchester pulled out his phone and texted Sam: "TALIM ORM = apothecary for monsters or something."

 

Sam Winchester received this text message while he and Dodge arrived an EDA meeting in the old rec room of what seemed to be a YMCA.

Sam and Dodge hovered at the back of the line, waiting for the right moment to slip in. As they got closer to the door, they saw someone welcomed each person to "The EDA." She was a younger woman, maybe in her late teens, and she never said anything more than, "You're here for the EDA? Welcome." 

"We shouldn't have waited so long," Dodge said quietly. "Now we're at the back of the line."

It happened to be true; apparently, the trio behind them discovered they were at the wrong meeting and left.

When they reached the front of the line, the woman asked, "You here together?"

Sam and Dodge nodded yes.

"For the EDA?" she asked. She had dark green eyes that flickered over them both, examining every aspect of their appearance.

"I don't think you're in the right place," she said. She turned and shut the doors, keeping her body firmly between herself and the two non-EDA members.

Sam spotted it as she spun around to face them: scars on her shoulder, just where the security footage spotted it.

"You should go," she said.

"Or," Sam prompted. "Maybe you could tell us why five EDA members have been beaten to death."

She didn't respond, but her face changed, almost imperceptibly. 

Dodge caught on quickly. She added, "Certainly, you should want to know."

"She already does," Sam said. "She's involved in the deaths."

As soon as the young woman moved, Dodge went for her side arm. The woman's face shifted, and Sam saw something he'd seen more than once before: the features of a werewolf. She landed a blow to his stomach before he could react, and as soon as Dodge pointed her gun, the girl slashed it away, leaving a wound down Dodge's arm.

'But, it's the new moon,' Sam Winchester thought. It was the last thought he had before he before he blacked out.


	5. Thicken then Sicken

Castiel didn't know what was going on.

For the most part, he had adjusted his expectations when dealing with people. They could be absolutely baffling, but he thought he'd come to know and to understand Dean. Yet for the past week, the hunter had been agitated and crass, even for him, for no reason the angel could discern. 

So Cas sprawled out across their bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had seen both Winchesters do this when they had a difficult case that wasn't adding up.

"Cas?" Dean said as he came into the room. "Are you trying to sleep again?"

"No."

"You okay?"

"No."

"Right," Dean replied, knowing that Cas would soon launch a long tirade against his behavior over the past few days. 

He waited. The angel made no reply.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"You okay?"

"No."

Dean swallowed. Maybe a tirade wasn't coming. And that meant only one thing.

"Look, I'm... sorry I've been... for the past week. I'm just a little pissed that Jesse went down like that."

Castiel sat up to look Dean in the eye. "You are upset over Jesse?"

"Yeah."

"He died destroying the army of Lucifer," Cas said. "His actions were brave. He defied everything that told him he was doomed to be a demon. He died as a person."

"You say all that and all I hear is a kid died."

"He chose to fight. You should feel proud of him, not sorry for yourself."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. He sat down on his side of the bed and looked away.

"How is Sam?"

"He's out with Dodge looking into the EDA."

"Do you want to talk about – "

"Cas, the last thing in the world I want is to talk right now."

The angel wasn't sure how to respond to that. Suddenly, Dean reached over and pulled Cas into a kiss. The angle was awkward, but their kiss became long and deepened. It wasn't long before Cas pulled Dean across his lap and began to undress him.

Dean never saw that big picture crap everyone else seemed to hone in on. He could tell himself that Jesse was a cambion that refused to be a monster, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't convince himself to feel any differently. And that was the problem. There was too much shit, too much thought, too many feelings to get himself straight. 

So he wrapped his arms around Castiel and let himself go. He stopped thinking about anything not in the room, and all there was right now was Castiel and himself.

His hands palmed Cas through his pants as the angel removed Dean's shirt and jeans. They kept tangling together, but neither one was willing to stop and adjust. By the time Dean had Cas in his boxers, they both had patches of red skin, raw from rubbing.

The angel finally had enough; he slipped himself under Dean and rotated, putting the hunter on his back. Before he could make his own move, Castiel slid off the last of his clothing and pinned him. He softly moved his lips to Dean's throbbing hard-on, encapsulating it in his mouth and sucking hard. 

Any remaining thoughts in Dean's minds were blown out of his head.

 

Dodge's head hurt. Her arm hurt. Her ankles and wrists hurt.

 _At least that means I'm still alive_ , she thought to herself. She kept her eyes closed and listened.

The sound of breathing was nearby. Her heart fluttered; maybe Sam was alive, too. She opened one eye as little as possible to scope her surroundings. Yes, Sam was sitting upright and tied to a chair. But he wasn't moving.

"You did what?" a man asked.

"I had to," a woman replied. It sounded like the woman from the EDA.

"You could've just sent them away."

"No, I – "

"They're not the first humans to turn up."

"Sir, it's not that they're human. They knew about the Purge."

"What? How?"

"I don't know, but one of them – "

"Hush!" the man said harshly. "You've said too much."

"What?"

"Both of them are awake," he said to her. Then he raised his voice and said, "Now, now, don't be shy. Open your eyes."

Dodge waited a few moments before opening her eyes. They were in a small room that probably served as a child's bedroom. The woman from the EDA was by the door, and towering over her was an older man, maybe in his sixties, who had an odd, undulating tick.

"Come now, get your friend to open his eyes, too," the man said. "I'm a Naga. I can tell different states from the taste it leaves on the air."

"The taste?" Dodge repeated.

"Your taste."

She didn't like where the conversation was going, and she was tied down with some kind of chain. There was no cutting through it. 

So she changed the topic. "Maybe he'd be friendlier if we had some names."

"Names?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, names," she said. "I'm Dodge."

"And your friend?" the man asked.

"I'll let him introduce himself. When he's ready."

"I'm Sharvari," she said. 

"I suppose it has a meaning," Dodge said conversationally. "Sounds like a name that you took. Rather than one you've been given."

"You mean like Dodge?" the man asked.

"Dodge is a nickname, it was given to me."

"It means 'twilight'," Sharvari said.

"And you? Your name?" Dodge asked the man.

"Call me Crosby," he replied.

Sam had opened his eyes at some point, but Dodge didn't notice until he spoke.

"Crosby? Really?" Sam asked. "I'm Sam."

"Two humans come to an EDA meeting. And not only do you seem to know what we are, but you seem to know about the purge," Crosby said.

"I've never met a Naga before. Read about you, but never seen one," he said. 

"Read about?" Crosby said.

"Seen plenty of werewolves. You must be high up on the blood line," Sam commented. 

Sharvari turned her head. "No, not at all."

"Really? I guess I just assumed so because you're able to transform outside the lunar cycle."

"It's the twenty-first century. Things are changing," she said simply. "It's not all blood and bloodlines and death these days."

"Hunters," Crosby said quietly. "You're hunters."

Sharvari's eyes burned golden-green. "We need to get rid of them," she said, panic rising in her voice.

"Why? Because we've gotten on to your murder spree?" Sam asked. "Hate to break it to you, but we're not the only ones. The FBI has a case file on you."

"That's what you think?" Crosby said slowly. "That the Purge is a murder spree?"

His face changed; scales erupted over his body. His entire form became sharp and harsh; the towering image of an enormous part-man, part-snake loomed above them.

And then it stopped. 

"If you are hunters that have seen as many monsters as you've read about," Crosby taunted, his human form completely restored, "then you should know better. If we were on a murder spree, there would be no one left alive."

"Sir, we need to get rid of them. If they are hunters – "

"Not yet, Sharvari," he interrupted. "I've got plans for these two, I do. And you're going to help."

**To be continued in 10x02 Bad Rain (coming soon...)**


End file.
